This Is But Our Quota (Part V)

'I' am the back-arched
leading a little from the lip,

a scenario arrived at via the possible 
scenarios arrived at, in cartoon bubbles,


blaked warm lines strapped in bulbs
here and there, not hard to sell, or win

proclaim from the frozen backside; angels
 
still in situ, about to sail, either shoulder
ebbing with ill-informed cartoon bulbs, 

or bubbling within against my own bones.


This Is But Our Quota (Part IV)

ill-informed, but at least formal in dress,
on the day a June dress getting longer  

and longer and nothing imminently there
harmful or prescient, sugar too another

multitude of aphoristic flex, stretched
in order to get the palimpsest dose 

of in Roman aphorisms with hues of romance
awash in the poem dark anger, trying to get 

participants some all-wear out of the p’s I 
donned within when poor little criminals, 

lyrically able, at the bottom of our Xmas card 
list on the precipice this nomenclature

sitting here (in front of you) the prophetic 
neckline island tying not to notice, but a tune 

around a simple houseplant pointing finger 
glove box far down her blouse, you are aphids 

descent-seat none appreciate but the scop
down song off her shoulder, totally, totally  

you obverse thin walk, long drive objective
to write our name on your behalf,  correspond

dispel an unkind rumour of who isn’t in, or out
to romance ther spirited beast, wild within

where you need to go to join the required dots
laboriously put together, assembled you are 'I'

inversional ooking through the wrong colour 
in a right way, packing cheeky smiles in eyes

your l is all on the wing of flight for, far out
they’re your jewels, they’re where I left them 

there.

Thanks very much, a great piece for making Write-Through with; which is a
superior-flarf which avant-gardists would say:

'Hey, cool, that's free exchange, done because of a deep professional love
for language in all its guises, straight or non-main, MS and NMS, both out
tribes tied by one bore - you who is 'I'.